After a very good conversation with Erick last night about the topic of grief, I realized that today's post should be about how I define grief, particularly as I'm relating it to different areas of life.
Grief as people normally think of it relates to the large and often crushing losses of life: death, divorce, loss of livelihood, unexpected and unresolved end to relationship, disability, and the list goes on. This type of grief is large and takes up a great deal of our energy for at least a portion of our lives. Well, at least it does if we allow it. If not, we end up living only partially. Grief of this kind, most experts agree, seems to involve five stages: 1. Denial and Isolation, 2. Anger, 3. Bargaining, 4. Depression (Sadness), 5. Acceptance. I don't like assigning these stages numbers because each process seems to move in and out of all of these stages, even simultaneously. While all of these stages seem to be present after these greater losses in life, I believe they present themselves differently for each person, even within that person - differently for each loss.
The second point I was trying to make is that grief is often short-circuited, if acknowledged at all, in other areas of life. I would agree these other losses are not as threatening to one's existence, but they still have the potential to derail us. For example, I said that choices we make leave others untried or unexperienced. An extreme example that I hope will help others understand what I mean is this: When Erick and I chose to begin starting a family, we were ecstatic and joyful to welcome Sophia. However, we had made a choice that our lives would never be shared between only the two of us again. No more running out for pizza at 10:30. No more sleeping in till 10:30. No more freedom or ease or uninterrupted conversation. I would not trade our current reality for any amount of riches, ease or opportunity; however, if I don't acknowledge the choice we made, I could become resentful of Sophia's presence in our life. Marriage is harder when children are present. Is it worth it? Of course! But even asking that question is a form of grief - particularly of the final stage of acceptance. I don't think that all the stages of grief are necessarily present in this second type of grief. Even if they are present, it seems that they could be less apparent and vital to the process.
I wanted to address my definitions of grief because if you are reading this with another definition or confusion about the less threatening types of losses, then we can't get very far. I hope that this post has been less confusing than I think, but I welcome questions and the chance to further clarify my position.
Maybe in the mean time, I'll take some pictures of Sophia. Nothing like a little distraction to ease the tension.
Thoughts?
Tension, is there tension? If there is I don't sense it. I'm glad that you are taking the time to acknowledge and welcome your grief. It truly does teach us much about ourselves. It's denial will only manifest itself somewhere else.
ReplyDeleteI'm sure the tension is all with me. Between what I mean in my head and what comes out in words. I'm relieved that it isn't obvious. Still, pictures of Sophia will be welcome. :)
ReplyDeleteI'm not great at grieving, and I'd rather avoid it. It hurts. But not always. I like this quote from Henri Nouwen that I've kept:
ReplyDeleteMourning and dancing are never fully separated. Their "times" do not necessarily follow each other. In fact, their "times" may become one "time." Mourning may turn into dancing and dancing into mourning without showing a clear point where one ends and the other starts.
Often our grief allows us to choreograph our dance while our dance creates the space for our grief. We lose a beloved friend, and in the midst of our tears we discover an unknown joy. We celebrate a success, and in the midst of the party we feel deep sadness. Mourning and dancing, grief and laughter, sadness and gladness - they belong together.
Thanks for sharing that DVD. I had read that quote months ago and had forgotten it completely. I really needed that reminder and permission to dance and mourn together. Wonderfully put, Henri.
ReplyDeleteI can find the mourning and dancing best when grieving a loss that doesn't feel too early. While grieving my lost grandparents I can find myself grieving with heavy heart and then burst out laughing at a wonderful memory.
ReplyDeleteBut when grieving a loss that never should have been, I find it much harder to dance. What is the dancing moment there? If you've experienced one, maybe it would be helpful to share.
Great question. That's where the guilt comes in. What do I really have to dance about? Why, then, do I not feel more constant mourning? How can I feel joy in this moment?
ReplyDeleteIn reality, most of my joyful moments come from two main sources right now. This loss has made what I have (home, child, husband, sunshine) all the more precious. So I find myself resting in the beauty of the moments even more. The other source of gladness is the knowledge that my baby will never experience pain or sadness. She is at rest and at play in an existence that I can't even imagine (although I try desperately).
Grieving a loss that never should have been...the dance is not a solo, it comes being held up by the arms of another. whether present or a Presence. There doesn't appear to be a way to have that joyful part,in those cases, except in the experience of those arms holding you up. LZ
ReplyDeleteWell said, Auntie Z, well said!
ReplyDelete